The Gateway
by PetiteElefant
Summary: Tick. Tock...Memories of Cyberspace has long since faded from the mind of Carson. All of its stories and adventures. The only reminder the secret cybermate has is the drubbing of her watch. She finds echos of her childhood throbbing back as Cyberspace tells her they need her. Can the Cybersquad forget the past and come together to save their worlds?...Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
1. Inbox

**Greetings Cybermates, it's been a while. The Digital Dimensions ended up failing epically. So this is me trying again to get the plot underway. If it receives a good response I will continue. I hope this story keeps you on your toes.**

**Thank you for waiting.**

**Disclaimer: I only own Carson. I do not own Cyberchase which means I don't own any of its characters for they belong to PBS. But, then again, Carson IS a thief, so who knows how long that'll last…**

**Chapter One: Inbox**

**November First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen**

"Must...pay...attention. Gotta'...stay...awake,"

Carson mumbled this under her breath to herself for the umpteenth time that morning, sticking her fingers in various places on her small freckled face, attempting to non-hypothetically pin her huge, dark eyes open.

Sweeping her thick, raven locks over her shoulders that hung just near her elbows, tickling them with their curled ends, she rested a slender, light-brown hand on her forehead wearily. Honors Geometry was slowly but surely sucking her dry. Up until a month or so ago, falling asleep in class was practically considered the biggest no-no for her. But, as mentioned, that was a month ago. Her lids fluttered uncontrollably as they lowered.

Having received a look of alarm from a guy in a desk across from her who undoubtedly had mistakenly witnessed her morphed, alien-like expression, she slowly lowered in her seat until just the top of her head was visible. In embarrassment, she pinched her full lips together to withhold a nervous giggle and picked up her fine point pen to continue her math notes in uncomfortable solomnance.

If it were possible to die of lethal doses of excessive bouts of pure boredom, Carson would certainly be six feet underground.

Within a month, the first semester would be wrapping up, and it seemed that her grades were progressively dropping weekly, as if her merits were sinking in quicksand pit of the mires of failure. Granted that she brought them up and studied extra hard for midterms coming up, maybe she'd pass. Maybe.

Just then Mr. Jones, the teacher, known in Carson's imagination as the Drippy Gorg from the Bogs of Arithmetic, spnarlfed (which is the only way to describe how it spoke) "Here's today's notes along with the homework for tonight. See page 83 in your Algebra III textbook for the remaining problems."

He slapped a thick packet of freshly printed worksheets on her desk leaving a filmy, green residue on the corner of the pages from his greasy, meaty hands and glorped toward his other helpless victims.

She sighed at the pile of papers with the radioactive juice burning a gaping hole through the algebra packet of doom that she would have to do later that evening, instead of hanging out like she wanted to.

Stamping up to the front of the classroom to resume instruction, Gorg began scrawling some obscure multi-equation on the wall-to-wall whiteboard with a toxic purple Expo marker and a collective groan emanated from the group if students.

The monotone slurs of his voice eventually trailed off in her head as the explanation of the solving of logarithmic equations was reduced to a series of inaudible-adults-of-PEANUTS' droning quacks as Carson pondered what she could be doing instead of moping around in class.

Much to her dismay, Carson had just recently been caught skipping school these past few days, hanging around on the corner of fifth and fourty-second street and wandering through varying avenues and alleyways, causing mischief. She figured that if she was going to flunk, she might as well have a bit of fun.

She had been positive that she was going to get suspended this time, considering it was well around her fourth offense this year.

Yet, to her greatest surprise, Mrs. Ferrero, the principal of Public School 72 , said that because of "family issues" and "various other discrepancies" that she'd understood her "pain" and a whole bunch of other riff-raff, she was just going to leave her with after-school detention and a final warning.

Though the principal was mostly correct about the growing tensions in her family and stuff, she was completely misconstrued by believing that was the cause of her increased troublemaking. But Carson was smart enough not to tell Mrs. Ferrero otherwise by keeping her trap shut and nodding her head in fake self-pity.

_Keep believing what you want to believe, lady. _she kept thinking.

No. Carson skipped school because she was bored. She hung out on the streets because she was bored. And she stole because she was bored. That's all. Not that complicated a motive.

Carson was shaken from her thoughts when she realized was showing each student his or her grade from yesterday's test. Luckily, she been snapped up by the police and dragged back to school in time for her to complete a major end-of-unit assessment. Hooray. Great timing. _Thank you Officer Morgan. I really appreciate it._

Carson's panicked heart thumped, praying for an adequate score.

"Please pass, please pass, please pass," she begged, clasping her hands together.

The Gorg leaned in close to her (which wasn't a very pleasant experience) and flashed the end of his grading roster in her general direction. Cracking one eye open to inspect the damage, Carson swiftly sank down into her chair and exhaled, "Eighty-two."

She smirked snidefully to herself with a smidgen of pride. _Not bad for a skipper._

Huffing, Carson straightened up in her chair and decided to be honest with herself. Obviously, had she resolved to attend class more often and actually be around to learn the material, she may have gotten a better grade. Forthwith, actually passing the class.

But no. Carson abandoned the "good girl" complex long ago, fed up with the mockery and being teased. She came to accept that not abiding by the rules was sometimes really fun; it allowed her to be her own person. Now she was in charge, now she was the bully.

Teachers knew that beside her mishaps that Carson was a fairly smart person, which was probably why they were holding off from shipping her off to Alternative School or Juvie or something.

But Math was her best subject, always had been. And now she was struggling with a seventy-one average.

Nevertheless, she has potential so they say. Ha! Potential her butt.

Cocking her head sideways and peering upwards at the clock on the far wall to figure out when in the heck this period was going to end, with a blooming sense of disdain for the ridiculous school; she realized the throbbing second hand wasn't moving and that the batteries were in need of replacement.

Pushing back the burgundy sleeve with the slippery squeak of her cropped, skin-tight leather jacket which was hemmed high beneath her ribcage, she glanced at the time on her pale blue Cinderella watch.

Sounds peculiar does it not? A crimson leather bolero and a Disney Princess watch didn't exactly go together, but she'd had it since she was four and loved it so much she couldn't bear to get rid of it, even after entering high school. And if anyone just so happened to scoff at her favorite armwear, they would not get one finger, but five.

With all of that being said, though Carson was sixteen years old and had developed a tough reputation over the past few months, little things like her watch reminded now how small and innocent she once was not too long ago. All of her adventures.

Once, she had been a good kid.

There was only two minutes left of class and already impatient students were beginning to pack up to prepare to leave. Crossing her arms defiantly and periodically checking the golden fairy wand tick away steadily, her half-lidded ebony eyes securing a visage of pure boredom on her bespeckled face, she counted down the seconds until the bell rang.

"Three Mississippi, two Mississippi, one—"

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Carson grinned devilishly. Her watch was always on point.

As if someone flipped a lever, the room became one flurry of binders, papers, and textbooks as everyone who hadn't taken precaution to pack up beforehand stuffed their things into their purses and drawstring backpacks. In contrast to the others, being the last student in the class, Carson as calmly as could be tossed her books and math packet into her sunny yellow knapsack rather haphazardly, knowing the Gorg's eyes were on her and purposely showing that she wasn't planning on doing any of it, and drifted out of Room One hundred and nine without a trace.

With a dastardly scowl painted upon her red lips she was on to her next class, walking in step with the endless tick of her infinitely powered watch, wondering if something moderately interesting was going to happen that day.

Trudging to her third period Computer Applications class (three seconds before the tardy bell rang like she always did), Carson plopped down into the gray rolling chair that sat in front of her assigned desk and logged into the computer under her username to check her email before instruction began. Again, like she always did.

Signing into Yahoo! Mail she entered in [bippityboppityboo ] for the address and for her password—she cracked a reminiscent smile—[mattjackieinez].

It was another one of those things that she refused to change from her childhood, for fear of forgetfulness. She often modified it to something else every once and a while, not wanting to be reminded of…them…each time she wanted to check her email, but after a few days of torture Carson would begrudgingly switch it back to the names of her old…friends.

Carson's smile faded away and her heart withered into a cold emptiness. So many times she had wanted to forget. So many times. But she couldn't. Something was always tugging on her to keep hold of all of it, to never let it go.

With a doleful frown she was signed in, and continuing her stale routine, Carson clicked on Inbox unenthusiastically went through the motions of trashing all of her floods of newly acquired junk mail.

"Inbox—201. Hooray." she sighed.

[Get your free personality check!] Delete.

[Reduce your mortgage by half!] Delete.

[Eharmony free for thirty days—] "Eww." Delete.

Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete x 194.

[**URGENT MESSAGE FOR CONNOR**] And delete.

Carson exhaled leaning lethargically back in her wheeled chair, having wasted several minutes for nothing instead of keeping up with the program assignments she was supposed to doing, like she did every single day.

About to click 'sign out' she halted.

_Why did that last one have my name on it?_

Having always hated her first name because 'Connor' sounded more like a boy's name, especially when she was smaller, she would insist on being called by her surname 'Carson', since it soundest if as much slightly more effeminate.

Nobody was allowed to call her that except her family and closest of friends. In fact, majority of people didn't even **know **her first name, and she rarely ever gave it out.

Currently taking a course on Microsoft Office, Carson knew better than most people that all businesses have to do is put your information into a recipient list and submit a mail merge to send hundreds of their cruddy emails to unsuspecting addresses. So most likely that was what had happened to her and she resolved that sending it into the Trash was probably for the best.

It still bothered her though about the first name thing. Carson had always been very careful as to where she put it, not just because it sounded masculine but just for the fact of distributing personal information as key as her official name.

A growing sense of worry forced her dainty hand to mouse over the trash icon and click on it. There it was at the top [**URGENT MESSAGE FOR CONNOR**]

"It better not be a fricken virus." Carson grumbled to herself, following the entertained thought that even if it was, it wasn't **her **computer anyway.

She double clicked and the email was opened and virtually empty of content save a video attachment labeled 'WATCH'.

A defiant eyebrow rose. _Do I look like an idiot?_

"Don't answer that ," she accidently muttered, unto her knowledge received a concerned look from the kid sitting beside her.

Her chest tightened, wary of the possibility that the video might contain something inappropriate enclosed inside. Carson's sixth sense pinged, telling her not to download it, but mischievous nature coupled with morbid curiosity and a whirring imagination overruled that poignant warning.

Minimizing he download window to a miniscule degree so that it would be overlooked by passersby and turning down the volume to four percent, plugged in her black Skullcandy earphones that she had nicked from a RadioShack not a day ago and stuffed the buds in her ears. With a knot in her stomach and a profound gulp, Carson prepared her eyes for anything and apprehensively clicked play, barely releasing her finger from the button.

…"AHHH!"

Closing out the window as swiftly as her sharp reflexes allowed as she snapped the'X' at the top, shooting out of her seat causing the swivel chair to spin like a top, as her hands were plastered over her wide, black eyes she panted at such a decibel it startled everyone in the class , peering up from their computer screens ( including her teacher),

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!"

A sea of puzzled expression began to fill the room to stare at the rather tiny, olive-skinned Sophomore, most wondering when it was she had gotten back considering it had been a number of days since they'd seen her. And now this.

Carson peeked out from behind her spindly fingers, ignoring the looks she was getting from her disrupted classmates and the 'You okay, Carson?' from , and just listened the incessant drubbing of her watch that was now in closer proximity to her ears.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

She assumed she had prepared her eyes for anything, and that proved rather false. Just when she thought it would just be another boring day of school at Public School Seventy-Two.

False.

Not knowing where the word came from buried deep inside of her hidden, abandoned memories, almost inaudibly Carson breathed, the ticking progressively resounding clearer,

"M.B."

_**REVIEW! (to find out what happens next!)**_


	2. Mission

**See this is why I love the Cyberchase community. Even though it's a minute fandom, the people are so lovable and loyal, they always appreciate new fics and give meaningful reviews.**

**Just so you guys know, I respond to ALL reviews that I get, so don't forget to send one(;**

**Replies:**

**leanna . urena1—Thank you! I just hope it STAYS exciting! I tried to do this story before and the plot just never ended up happening until like chapter 10. So finally I was like… "Oh hecks nahh"…and decided to start over with a new character and new plot. I hope you like it!**

**Daisyfan5534—Hey, hey, hey! *winks* I remember youuuuu! What's up girlfriend, I hope your hand is better! And thank you! Hopefully this rewrite will go better…and AHH THANK YOU! I actually can't believe you think it's more to the point! I. never. ever. write. where we get to the point. Ever. So to me, that was like the best compliment in the world. If you ever read my fic One Hundred Days, you will see my point. And I haven't gotten to it(; SO THANK YOU. I will log that away and recall it to mind when I need encouragement to write 'proficiently'. Hehe, so yeah, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**KawaiiStella—Psst…nudge-nudge..*whispers* I remember you too. Hiya! Yes suspense is nice. Suspense is good for da soul. I'm glad left you wanting much more. THAT is my purpose. And yes! I love boy names for girls too! I really hope you like this story (preferably over the other one). So MUAHAHAHA, let's get on with it.**

**Disclaimer: Me no ownz Cyberchase. But if I did…I would have never let it end.**

**Cap Up: Carson is just a city girl with family issues, behavioral problems, an attitude, and a bit of a Brooklyn accent. Having begun to loathe school after going through a "bad girl" streak, she finds a forgotten piece of her life coming back to haunt her with a single email. **

**Chapter Two: Mission**

**November First, Two-Thousand and Twelve**

Not knowing where the word came from buried deep inside of her hidden, abandoned memories, almost inaudibly Carson breathed, the ticking progressively resounding clearer,

"M.B."

After several grueling seconds of awkward silence, the air hanging like invisible smog in the computer room, Carson finally seemed to snap out of her prolonged daze.

Coming out of her shock she waved her hand dismissively, eyes wide and still glazed over she mumbled faintly,"Sorry, I just—saw—just…yeah,"

Students and Computer Applications' teacher continues to stare. The tips of Carson's ears tinged red. Getting annoyed Carson blared, "Well! Get back to work!"

Obediently, everyone carried on with their assignments, picking up where they left off, not daring to challenge the tiny yet strangely intimidating young woman, and the space became once more a medley of assorted clicks and keyboard taps.

Carson nodded, satisfied. Blinking languidly, she slowly lowered herself back into her gray rolling chair, having yet to believe what she had witnessed. Giving a harsh swallow, she hesitantly wrapped her shaky hand upon the mouse and moved the pointer over to the blue taskbar where Windows Media Player was sleeping, waiting for her.

Carson moaned, partially in fear and partially in anticipation, unaware of what she will soon be hearing about from the distant world that for so long she had put off from her mind.

Taking a precautionary sweep of the surrounding area with her eyes to see that she was unobserved, Carson turned the monitor towards her and restored the video. On the window's reappearance, she was once again taken aback by the memorable scene. There was the familiar older woman's boxy face surrounded by the surging violet vortex in the background.

Trying to stay composed, Carson smiled. _I haven't forgotten you Motherboard._

Turning up the volume a tad bit more so that she would be able to hear, she reinserted the earphones in her ears, feeling tears beginning to form behind her eyes as she graciously granted herself the ability to reminisce. She could see Matt, Jackie, Inez, and herself racing go-karts on R-Fair-City and swimming along on the coastlines of Tikiville.

Carson relaxed the tensed muscles in her face to allow one warm tear to escape the barrier and wiped it away before anyone could see it or before it fell onto the keyboard and shorted it out.

Her smiled widened as she echoed softly with a sniff, "Greetings young Cybermate…" ,certain that's exactly what she would say. Carson clicked play and tuned into the smooth sound of Motherboards' cool, digitalized voice—

"Greetings young Cybermate."

Carson gave a knowing smirk.

"After all this time, there is yet again turmoil in Cyberspace. But before I explain, I will recount the happenings of the past couple of days."

One of her eyebrows rose significantly higher than the other as she stared perplexed at the screen in front of her. She noticed there was no breakage or static in her tone as she spoke, which used to happen due to her virus that Hacker had given her long ago. _Maybe something had happened._

Carson gritted her teeth_. _Hacker. That word that had vanished from her nightmares with time. It was here. It was back_._

"Since you were last here, Hacker's attacks have been few and far between. So scarce they were ,in fact, as of two days ago, it had been an entire year since he wreaked havoc on any Cybersite."

Suddenly, a newsreel tickered across the screen of people dancing, singing, and partying on different sites, gathered around some large visual screen to watch the official commemoration in Control Central.

Carson whispered a tiny "yay" at the sight.

"There was a grand celebration throughout all of Cyberspace. Parties were held, gates and doors left opened, a seemingly beginning of a new period of peace. Yesterday, however, quite a peculiar pattern erupted. Hundreds of scrap vendors from all over began receiving strange calls requesting car, computer, and building parts and tools."

A cheesy recording of a shrilly,girly voice ordering 137 lots of hydraulic energy converters began to play.

Anyone with at least twenty-four percent of their brain could decipher that it was a gimmick.

As she was listening in comical disbelief, Carson scoffed. _Yes, because normal little cyborg-ettes order complicated sub-car parts over the phone._

"Hacker is an eem-baceel." she muttered with a noticeable hint of a Creole on the final word.

Imbecile was one of Carson's favourite words. Except, of course, whenever her mother happened to scream it at her. It didn't just mean dumb, it meant someone whose brain operated **severely** below par, which, in her mind, was a perfect description in regards to Hacker's mental faculties.

Motherboard explained, "It was assumed that no doubt Hacker was unraveling some nefarious plot. I had sent Digit to the Northern Frontier to spy on him—"

A fuzzy taperecording of the Northern Frontier flickered on (As it was dropped several times, Digit was most likely holding the camera himself) as he sped up the runway to find the area had been absolutely empty, there was just enough sound in the clip to hear Digit gasp in his scruffy accent, "What...the...hyper-link—" to be followed by TV snow.

Motherboard continued,"The Grim Wreaker, the power grid, everything had been extensively evacuated from the Northern Frontier. Up to today, no one has any knowledge of where he is or where he could be. Of all of the mystery calls to the various warehouses, none have any recollection of a specific location."

A silent video of Digit interviewing numerous managers and workers appeared and the majority of the subjects had shaken their heads or shrugged their shoulders at his questions.

"It is not certain how the parts were delivered without an address. But it is assured that he must be hiding."

A photograph of a newspaper headline spun around and popped up titled: **_HACKER'S GONE MISSING! – The Search is On!_**

"Countless relations of power surges and outages have been reported on quite a number a cybersites including Control Central. Causing traffic jams, loss of accounts throughout stocks and important businesses, server disconnections, bank failures, and many other problems."

Accompanying photos proved such to be true.

"Hacker needs to be found, what he is planning with the hundreds of parts he's suddenly ordered has to be discovered, and then stopped from doing so."

A knot weaved itself into Carson's stomach.

"We need **YOU** to do it. Hacker has been quiet for a very long time, whatever he is building could be more dangerous than ever. I know it has been years since any of you have done missions like this. Nonetheless, Cyberspace needs you. You are our only hope."

The video seemed to stop, but then unexpectedly it flickered on again.

"And Connor, if you are watching this, know that we understand if you cannot come and assist us. But if you are capable of doing so, we will be elated to welcome you back."

The screen went black.

The bell rang. The end of third period.

Carson stared into the dark void. She didn't know what to do.

There was a pause. Her Cinderella watch continued to tick.

Closing Windows Media Player and signing out of Yahoo! rather absent-mindedly, she logged out of the computer and gathered her things. Ripping out a loose leaf paper from her folder, Carson scribbled something on the end of it, tore off the piece and stuffed it in her pocket.

Straightening out her maroon leather jacket and slinging her bright yellow knapsack over her shoulder, Carson ambled across the laboratory.

Again being the last to depart, Mrs. Thornton, the teacher, enquired, with a bit of concern on her tongue, "Did you do any of your projects in class, Connor Carson?"

Even though she always used her first name, she did happen to be one of the few teachers Carson liked.

Ashamed and not even giving the woman a second glance Carson sighed dismally, fleeing out of the door, "No, sorry Mrs. Thornton I didn't, but I have a strange feeling I won't be doing them later today either."

And with that she vanished.

Marching hurriedly down the hallway against the flow of rushing students, Carson bumped into one of her friends, one of her closest.

Shannon Lange was her name. Thin, pale, with chestnut coloured eyes and curly brown hair that she always wore in a ponytail, she stood about not much taller than Carson. Her mother was from Albania, so naturally she had this effortless European beauty.

Having a poignant interest in musical theater, she was wearing her favorite Les Mis T-shirt and skinny jeans, finishing it out with her infamous neon orange converse.

"Coming to lunch, Carse?" Shannon called expectantly, noticing she was heading in the opposite direction of the Cafeteria.

Carson said nothing, only stuffed the piece of loose-leaf in Shannon's hand, gave her a look of urgency with her dark brown eyes, and continued on her way without stopping.

Feeling a bit blown off, Shannon squinted sceptically at the small disappearing figure and then at crumpled wad that had been forced into her palm.

Uncurling the paper, her visage of suspicion transformed into that of curiosity as she squeezed through the currents of students in the hallways and eventually into the safety of the lunchroom.

As Shannon plopped down into her seat closest to the windows of Public School Seventy-Two cafeteria, Rachel, Carson's other friend, who was tall, lean, and blonde with a pleasant attitude , leaned across the table to scour what she was looking at.

"What's that Shannon?" Rachel piped up inquisitively, taking her seat vertically from her and setting down her lunch tray.

"Note from Carson," she answered, waving the torn paper in the air.

"Ooh lemme read it," she said anxiously, grappling for it.

They opened it together with prying hands and, in response, chary frowns spread across both faces.

The note read: _txt me. trouble._

**_REVIEW! _**


	3. Youtube Excuses

"Hello readers! You have been severely missed! I'm sorry I haven't been updating. I've taken a bit of a hiatus, but hopefully this video will clear things up. I made a channel just for the purpose of fanfiction so you can subscribe to me if you the way, don't laugh at me, I had a pretty tough week and I look absolutely horrendous it's pitiful...

Alright laugh, I know it's inevitable.

/watch?v=nPubDlEVnPU&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Love you all,

PetiteElefant"


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